Alive
by iq2two
Summary: Prequel to Life and Death. Lennie Briscoe is surprised to meet someone he recognizes when canvassing gas statios in New Jersey.


_This is a prequel to my story "Life and Death". I've been sort-of stuck on that, and while I was thinking about that I was thinking about this, which is something that Claire will mention later in that story, and it came to me as a very short, probably one-shot story of its own. It takes place during season fifteen, sort-of, just before the death of Lennie Briscoe, and is a cross-over with Trial By Jury in a way. If you don't understand this, read Life and Death. And I haven't given up on that or anything; I'll try to update it soon._

_I don't own Law & Order or any of the characters in this one._

With each New Jersey gas station Lennie Briscoe canvassed, it became less and less likely that the suspect ADA Kibre was trying had stopped there, but he pressed on and entered yet another. He took out the six-pack of photos and approached the thirty-something brunette at the desk. She was deeply absorbed in a book, and he cleared his throat to get her attention.

She looked up, and the shock of recognition nearly gave Lennie a heart attack.

"Claire???" his voice revealed his disbelief. She was so, so horribly out of place that he could barely believe it, but there was no mistaking her.

She recognized him too, he could see. Her expression was the same polite half-smile it had been when she'd first looked up, but her mask had slipped for an instant, and even now that it was back on her face there was no hiding the fear in her eyes. "I'm sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else. My name is," she paused for half a beat before continuing, "Angela Brown." He noticed her hands were shaking as she opened her purse and fished out a driver's license, which she shoved at him.

He took it and examined it closely. He could see at a glance that it did say Angela Brown, and the picture was her, but fake IDs, or even real ones with false names, were not hard to come by. He looked at it for much longer than he needed to see that it revealed nothing.

His first instinct was to say something sarcastic, but he held it back. "_Claire_," he stressed the name, "Don't even try to play games. I know who you are, and you recognize me too."

She shook her head. "I've never seen you before in my life." To Lennie, it seemed that it pained her to say the words, but he could have been projecting.

"The day you- the last time I saw you, I told you that I would have been proud to have you as a daughter," he told her. He'd been drunk at the time, but that didn't make the words any less true.

A tear formed in the corner of her eye, but she said, "You must have told that to someone else, because I have ever even met you. I have to go now, my shift is over." She began closing up the register.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Ms. Brown," Lennie said, and turned to leave. Not that he was giving up that easily.

"If I was... the person you think I am... I wouldn't want you to tell anyone," she said as he began to walk out the door. He turned back to face her. "Especially... anyone who was close to me." Her eyes were far away as she thought of the person she didn't want him to tell, and they both knew who it was. Then her eyes snapped back to Lennie and she added, "Since I'm not who you think, it wouldn't be fair, anyway." He nodded, and turned to leave again.

"And if I was her, there would have been a reason. A good reason."

Lennie turned back again, but that was clearly all the explanation she was willing to offer.

The address on "Angela Brown's" drivers license was a small apartment in a bad part of town. Lennie had been parked out front for an hour, and was just beginning to think the address was fake, when the woman from the gas station appeared from around the corner, walking with a young girl. Lennie's shock was renewed when they got near the apartment, because the girl was the spitting image of her mother.

"Just pack what you need right away, we can buy new things once we get there," the woman was telling the little girl. She appeared watchful, and Lennie ducked down in the seat to avoid being seen.

"But Mom, what happened? Did the bad guys find us again?" the little girl sounded older than her years.

Her mother shook her head. "No, sweetheart, I just ran into an old friend, and he recognized me." She unlocked the door and they went inside.

Out front, in the car, Lennie's mind was churning. Claire was alive. She had a daughter. She was hiding from someone. And she was about to disappear again.

He thought for several minutes before getting out of the car and knocking on the apartment door.

"Who is it?" a child's voice called out from inside.

He hesitated a moment before saying, "Police."

To his surprise, the little girl did not open the door but called back, "Can I see your badge?"

There was no peephole, so he held it up to the window. The faded curtain drew back to reveal the face of the little girl, who stared at the badge intently. Seeing her face to face, Lennie was in for the third shock of his day. The little girl was not the spitting image of her mother, not quite. Her eyes were her father's.

She finally let the curtain drop, but the door did not open. He could hear the girl call, "Mom!" and the sound of footsteps coming into their living room.

"There's a policeman outside," Lennie could hear the girl say. "His badge says he's from New York."

There was a long silence, and Lennie began to think she might sneak out the back, but then the door unlocked and opened.

"So you followed me," Claire said. "I should have expected it. Come inside," it was more of an order than an invitation. Lennie stepped into the apartment, and she quickly closed and locked the door.

"What are you doing here?" Lennie asked. "Everyone thinks you're dead."

"It's complicated," she said wearily. "This is my daughter. Sweetie, this is Lennie Briscoe."

"Hi," the girl said.

"What's your name?"

She looked at her mom, as if for permission, then told him proudly, "My real name's Jackie."

Lennie looked at Claire in surprise. "You named her after..."

"Her father," Claire confirmed. She sank down onto the couch. "Lennie, you have to promise you won't tell him any of this." Her tone was desperately serious.

"He'd want to know," Lennie protested. "That you're alive, that you have a daughter."

"Yes, he would. He'd also want me and our daughter to _stay_ alive."

Lennie didn't reply.

"Lennie, please, just promise me you won't tell Jack anything."

She was so desperate that he finally agreed.

"You have to go now," she told him. "I want to get where we're going before dark. It's good to see you." Lennie could tell she meant it.

He didn't want to leave, wanted to find out why she had let everyone think she was dead, yet inexplicably he let his legs slowly take him to the door. Just before he left, he turned to her and said, "I'm glad you're alive."

She nodded, and said, "Remember, you promised you won't tell Jack."

"I won't," he reaffirmed.

He probably wouldn't have. He ran into Jack at the courthouse a few days later, and as much as he wanted to blurt out, "Claire's alive!", he managed to walk past with nothing but a polite nod. He was dead before he had another chance to even be tempted to tell Jack.

Claire read about it in the newspaper in Wyoming, and began to pack her bags again.

_Please review._


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